


With This Ring

by skargasm



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-10
Updated: 2010-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 22:37:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two outsiders <i>see</i> other and in doing so form a bond....</p><hr/>
            </blockquote>





	With This Ring

**Title :** With This Ring  
 **Pairing :** Spike/Charles Gunn  
 **Beta'd :** Unbeta'd but proofread  
 **scot25 Prompt** : Ring  
 **Warning :** As close to rough sex as I get.  
 **Summary :** Two outsiders _see_ other and in doing so form a bond....

* * *

  


“I want you to hold onto that and not let go, under **any** circumstances. You got me?” Nodding frantically, Spike reached up and took hold of the ring. It was bolted into the wall, made of heavy steel and even at full strength he would struggle to pull it out. “Push your ass back”.

Arching his back and pushing his ass out as instructed, Spike hissed as Gunn's large strong black hand stroked down his back gently. So gently. It reached the curve of his ass, cupping it and squeezing. It slid between his cheeks and one finger pressed against his asshole but didn't enter.

“You sure you want this?” He nodded frantically. He needed this – needed to be _seen_ , needed someone who understood what it was like to be on the edge, pushed aside, not needed. No one ever asked what Spike thought, what Spike wanted. No one ever asked – they just assumed he would do what they wanted, how they wanted it. But Gunn understood because he lived in the same dark place. So Gunn always asked. Always.

* * *

It had started after they lost Fred. Gunn had wanted to be punished, needed to get his guilt out someway, somehow. But Angel couldn't or wouldn't; Wes refused to even talk to him. So he was left in his hospital room, bag packed and ready to go, but go where? The weight of his ex-lover's death was pushing him down and he wasn't sure if he could go on. The door opened and there was Spike, slouched against the doorway.

“What do you want English? Come to see what a traitor looks like?”

“You ain't no traitor. And I've come to take you out of here, yeah? You look like you need – I dunno, something”. For a moment, Gunn considered telling Spike to fuck off, to leave him alone. But something stopped him, and nodding he lifted his head, stood up from the bed and collected his stuff.

“Lead on then”. He followed Spike out into the dark, smiled crookedly when he saw the Viper parked waiting for them. He didn't care where they went – he couldn't outrun what he felt. As Spike manoeuvred them out of the parking lot, he turned to him and said “Does it get better?”

“Does what get better?”

“You got your soul, you feel guilt. Does it get better?”

“Sometimes. O' course, I did a whole lot more than you did, a whole lot more than signing a few bits of paper without knowing what it would do. But sometimes you just need to get the guilt out, ya know? Got to let it out before it digs into your insides and hollows you out. Like – like Illyria”. Gunn nodded again – Spike seemed to understand way more than anyone else which surprised him.

“How do you get it out?”

“How do **I** get it out or how should you do it?”

“You”.

“You don't wanna play those games Charlie – not a good idea, yeah”.

“What – you think I can't handle it? I ain't always been a suit. Not been a suit for long. May not be a big bad vampire, but I been a big bad back in the day.”

“It's not that. Just didn't think you went that way”. Looking at his profile, Gunn realised what Spike was alluding to.

“Sometimes. Not often. You?”

“Vampire here mate. I go whatever way I fancy”.

“Got somewhere?” He felt Spike's eyes on him but steadfastly looked out the front of the car. A few minutes passed.

“Yeah. I got somewhere. Now?” Turning at last, he held Spike's gaze, watching the blue eyes darken to navy as he allowed lust into his expression. Lust for blood. Lust for sex. Lust for something darker?

“Yeah now.” The drive didn't take long, the walk down the stairs to the basement apartment Spike was staying in took less. Spike gestured Gunn in before him, flicking lights on as he closed and locked the door.

“Through there”. He pointed towards a closed door and Gunn realised this was his opportunity to say no, to go back to his quiet apartment and his bottle of bourbon and drink himself into a stupor. He watched as Spike moved to the closed door, shucking his duster and toeing off his heavy boots to reveal the lean muscular body. He turned to Gunn, looking at him through his eyelashes, a half smirk on his face. “You can change your mind. Or - “

“Or what?”

“Or you can show me what you want”.

“Show you?” Embarrassingly high pitched, eyes wide as he realised what Spike was offering, asking.

“Yeah. You can show me what's going on in there. S'not just guilt is it Charlie-boy?”

“I don't know what you mean. And if you wanna just play head-games, maybe I should go”. Angry, he turned back towards the locked door.

“Who put you in that position yeah? I mean, who took you out of your environment, twisted and moleded you all to fit, then left you to flounder? He's good like that – makes you think it's all your fault when really you're just trying to do what you think he wants. Or needs”.

“I don't know what you're talking about”. But he hadn't tried to open any of the locks. Made no further attempt to leave.

“No? So, what, you're not just a little bit pissed off at our esteemed leader then? You know the one – stiff hair, overhanging brow? The guy who took you all into the belly of the beast and seems to have left ya there to find your own way”.

“Angel didn't make us do anything – he - “

“S'part of his charm, innit. He doesn't _make_ ya do anything – he just makes you _want_ to do it. And you wanted to help him didn't you Charlie-boy? Didn't want to be just a bit more muscle in a sea of muscle. Wanted to be special, do something to make him notice ya”.

“You shut your mouth”.

“But it didn't work did it? Looked like it was gonna be a temporary fix and then you'd go back to just being muscle-boy, nothing big about ya with all the swat guys and army he's got now. Wanted to be seen didn't ya? Wanted to be important to him - “

“You shut the fuck up!” He found himself staring down at Spike, pushing him backwards into the room, blood boiling with rage. It wasn't true – none of it was. He was more than muscle – he'd run his own crew, kept them safe from the vamps in LA long before Angel. He'd only done the legal thing because Wes was the book dude, Fred was the science, Angel the vamp with a destiny. And he – he was – he was what? More muscle that they didn't need? Not any more – he was the legal mind, the one who kept the demonic clans tied in knots and read through the shit from the Senior Partners so they didn't sign away their lives by accident. Of course they needed him – Spike was talking out of his ass.

Staggering back into the room, Spike continued to smirk at him. He yanked his black teeshirt over his head, throwing it into the corner and Gunn looked around. Just a room. Big bed, huge iron scrollwork headboard, a chest against the wall.

“Don't ya think you're important Charlie-boy? Worth his attention? I bet sometimes you sit there with him, going through yet more paperwork, knowing you've got him all to yourself just for that time – he pays attention to ya then, doesn't he Charlie? But the rest o'the time – what about the rest o'the time? Couldn't give a shit could he? Doesn't even see ya – doesn't see that you're floundering and lost in a sea of bureaucracy while he swans around doing the hero thing. Is that what you signed up for? Is it?”

“You don't know what you're talking about and this – this is a mistake. I'm leaving Spike. Thanks for the chat”. Turning once more, Gun went to leave the room.

“What, and miss the chance to have a vamp at your mercy, boy? Miss the opportunity for some payback – for what you lost with your crew? For _who_ ya lost?”

“What the hell do you know 'bout who I lost?”

“S'not just Fred is it? I mean, you feel guilty about that but it's not just her. What was your sister's name?” He didn't even remember crossing the room, picking Spike up and throwing him onto the bed. He only vaguely saw his hands ripping off the tired black jeans, holding down the long, pale arms as he threw himself on top of the smaller man, crushing him down onto the bed.

He did remember his first taste of Spike's mouth – blood, cigarettes, the musk that was just _him_. The fight against his tongue as he battled to subdue him. The lean body writhing against his as he forced him to submit, held him down, made him take all the hurt/anger/pain in a kiss that went on and on. He'd never really had angry sex – make-up sex, play sex, but not angry wanna kill somebody sex – but that's what this was.

He grappled and twisted, shoved himself between Spike's legs and groaned as their cocks drilled against each other through the denim of his jeans. Struggled out of his pants whilst still kissing Spike, tongue stabbing into that wet mouth. Finally released the slender hands because he needed his free to take his clothes off – had to get skin to skin with that soft, smooth marble pale flesh. Hissed as cool hands gripped his face and the kiss morphed. Still angry, still hurt, but underneath it understanding, compassion, sharing, want. Stopped struggling with his clothes so that he could cup the sharp jaw, stroke the blades of cheekbones, learning the taste and feel of the vampire and relishing it, despite it's strangeness. Lifted his head and looked down, met Spike's hazy eyes.

“I'm sorry - “ Spike shook his head, smiled softly with lips puffy and swollen and a bead of blood caught Gunn's eye. Dipping his head, he lapped at it, gasping at the taste as it zinged through him. “- don't want to hurt you”.

“Won't”. Soft, callus-free hands stroked over his head, learning the ridges of his skull, massaging and soothing at the same time. A long, slender finger stroked down to his nape, tickling slightly before following the trail down his back. He arched against the sensation, pressing Spike deeper into the bed, watched as his eyes flickered with the feeling. “Take what ya need”.

He vaguely knew the story of Spike's involvement with the Slayer, knew that it had involved a lot more pain than pleasure, that she had used him to make herself feel better after coming back from heaven. And he didn't want to do that to Spike – didn't want to treat him that way. But the rage was still in there, still needed an outlet – the guilt was in there too. Pushing himself up, he disentangled them, and stood by the side of the bed. Without speaking, he stripped his pants off completely, then moved to the chest against the wall, throwing the lid back so he could see the contents.

Whips, chains, handcuffs – not tangled together like he half expected. Obviously cleaned and taken care of, laid out for him to make his choice. Reaching in, he chose the items he wanted then turned back to the bed where Spike was watching him. He gave the body laid bare before him a totally encompassing look – lean chest with little or no hair, moving down to chiselled abs, a sparse happy trail of hair leading down to the cock jutting out towards him. Long, pale skinned, head peeking through a foreskin a deep rose colour. Dragging his eyes past that, he admired the sleek lines of Spike's thighs and calves, all the way down to the long slender feet.

Moving to the end of the bed, he laid the items down and took hold of both of Spike's ankles. He pulled gently, watching as the sleek pale body travelled down the bed towards him. He allowed his hands to slide up the legs as the body moved down, gripping Spike's hips as they reached the end of the bed. Spike's cock was bobbing, pre-come leaking out of the tip and leaving a smeared trail from his belly.

“You want this?”

“if I didn't you couldn't keep me here”.

“You want this?” Insistent. Needed to know that this was mutual, consensual, that he wasn't going to hurt someone else with his actions.

“Yes – I want this”. Leaning up on his elbows, Spike looked up at him through surprisingly long eyelashes. “You sure you wanna travel this road?” Meeting his eyes, Gunn allowed himself to smile – the first real smile in what felt like years.

“Oh yeah, blondie, I wanna travel this road with you”. A flick of his wrist and small sleight of hand, and the cock ring was placed around the base of Spike's jutting dick, a gasp drawn from the blond vampire at the speed of his action. A couple of encouraging strokes, a twist as he reached the top of the pulsing length, pre-come used as lubricant to ease the path of his hand as he moved it up and down. He admired and enjoyed the contrast between their skin tones – even the palms of his hands looking dark next to the pale white of Spike's cock as he jerked him off. He allowed his other hand to stroke across the erect pink nipples, teasing and twisting them enough to make Spike moan and thrust upwards into the warm tunnel he'd created. Gunn glued his eyes to Spike's face, loving the pained look as Spike jerked his hips upwards, blue eyes narrowed to slits as he concentrated inwards on how he was being made to feel. Gunn dug his nails into the head of Spike's cock, watching the response carefully and smiling inwardly as it just made the vamp moan louder, thrust his hips up faster. Taking a tight grip, he tugged faster, squeezing hard, harder than he would ever have risked on another man. But it just made Spike writhe all the more, body twisting as he tried to get leverage to push himself into the other man's grip. “Nuh huh Blondie, it ain't gonna be _that_ easy”.

Straddling Spike's body, he climbed onto the bed, shuffling forward on his knees until the blond vampire fell backwards. Knees tucked into Spike's armpits, he leaned forward, taking his weight on his hands and placing his crotch at a level with Spike's face. “Show me you want this”.

Panting for breath, unbearably aroused, Spike reached up and took hold of the swollen cock pressed insistently against Gunn's belly. Thick, long and dark, with a deep-red angry looking head – Spike closed his eyes and opened his mouth, taking it in deep in one move. Gunn groaned before moving forwards in a press-up motion, shoving himself deeper into Spike's unresisting throat. One hand moved to cup Spike's head, pulling him in tight as Gunn began a smooth thrusting motion, fucking his face. Spike let his head drop into Gunn's grip, mouth opened wide to accept the deep, frantic motions, hands reaching round to grab hold of Gunn's arse and pull him closer, deeper.

The sounds of grunting filled the room – Gunn pressing deep then pulling back, his hand clasping Spike's head tightly to keep him in place. God godgod felt so good, pushing deep into that cool, tight tunnel, not thinking anymore, just thrusting. He could tell Spike was alright – the hands on his ass were caressing, stroking not pushing him away, his tongue licking as much as it could, digging into the slit at the end of Gunn's cock and making him moan even more. Gunn's brain had gone white-hot, no more thoughts but in in in, just needed to not think, just fuck this willing tight mouth as long as he could.

But it wasn't in him to be completely selfish, and cursing his inner 'good-guy' he pulled himself free, and shuffled backwards. God, Spike looked debauched – eyes wide, lips deep red and puffy from sucking. As he moved backwards on the bed, Gunn's eyes were drawn to Spike's crotch, unable to avoid admiring the straining cock, reddened with borrowed blood, pulsing against the restraint.

“Oh yeah, you want this”. Pulling Spike up the bed, he leaned over and kissed him hard, tasting himself in Spike's mouth and groaning. Pulling back, he manhandled him up the bed, then framed his face and looked him in the eye. “Don't think I can do gentle, man”.

“Sometimes don't need to”. Spike's voice was husky, a little raw from the mild battering his throat had taken, but he was still smiling that soft little smile.

“Like this?” Spike's eyebrow quirked then he nodded. He reached for the lube he'd grabbed from the chest, sliding between the cool white cheeks to find the tight pink pucker. Rubbing against it, he liberally spread lube around before sliding his finger in. It was so tight, hugging his finger in a vise-like grip as he moved it gently in and out, spreading it around as much as possible. Pulling out, he pressed two fingers together before returning to the tight cavern, scissoring them to open Spike up as much as he could. Spike spread his legs, lifting them so that Gunn could catch him behind the knees, opening him up. Holding his cock in his right hand, he lined himself up and pushed in. There was no give, the ring of muscle refusing to give way. He looked up at Spike who's eyes were closed, a slight grimace of pain on his face. “Want me to stop?” He wasn't sure if he could but he felt he should offer.

“No. Just do it, yeah? Think we both need it”. Spike braced himself, and taking him at his word Gunn pressed more forcefully. A slight give and the head popped through, and he could feel the sweat pop out on his forehead as the tight hole held him – no give for moving forwards, tight grip not releasing him. Denied access, and he could feel the anger building in him again. He wanted in – wanted to be part of Spike, and yet again a vampire was pushing him out, refusing him entry to the inner sanctum. Part of him knew it made no sense, that this wasn't Spike refusing him, but a red haze came over him and he thrust forward hard, pushing through all resistance so that he could ram himself as deep as he could get. Spike cried out but it was a distant sound against the buzzing in his ears as he adjusted to how it felt to be inside at last.

“Oh fuck!!” So tight, so hot around him, blowing his mind as he held himself still in the cool, clinging depths. Leaning forward, he rested there, finally able to open his eyes and look at Spike. The blue eyes had bled to gold, blood on his lips where he had bitten through at the pain of Gunn's entry. “Shit! Spike - “

“S'okay. Just give me a minute yeah”. His voice was husky with pain, and Gunn could feel the muscles spasming around him. God help him, but it was making it even more difficult to hold still, the urge to slide out and fuck back in riding him hard. Couldn't wait anymore, it was killing him, so he dragged himself out slowly s l o w l y until just the head of his cock was still captured. Watching Spike's face, the wince as he began to move, the mouth twisting as he began to slide back in, the eyes widening as he pushed his whole length over his hot spot on the way back in. Hips shifted, legs pulling him forward, and Gunn took it as permission to really move.

Hands resting by Spike's chest, he looked down and watched his dark brown flesh sliding into the tightly clenched white hole, the contrast of colours so beautiful as the two merged. Hips writhing slowly, taking his time, sliding in, tugging out until Spike was moaning on each entry, hands reaching for Gunn and holding on tight. Gunn circled his hips, feeling the tight walls caressing every inch of him as he looked down at this vampire that he was in to the hilt, who was in his control. Once again, Gunn was the leader, the man in charge and he wanted the blond to feel it in every muscle of his body.

Hips snapping, he drove himself deep, thrusting hard and fast, his balls thudding against Spike's ass. Spike's hands gripped tightly, almost hurting, before he reached behind him for the headboard, wrapping his fingers around it and holding on. The action pulled his body taut, stretched him out for Gunn to see, to feel and he let loose, throwing his hips into faster action. Hate, pain, fear, love – all of it fuelling his movements as he thrust in in in. “Take it – you bastard, take it – take me!! Wanted – fuck – wanted to be needed and it killed her – I killed her – your fault, all your fault...” The words were pulled from him, not aimed at Spike but it was him who received it all, took every thrust and accepted it. Legs tight around Gunn, heels digging in to pull him closer, deeper. “fucking lost everything – God, Spike, I – ugh – lost her, lost both of them - “ And now he was crying as his hips kept moving like a automaton, driving in deep as he finally let out all of his feelings – the hurt of losing his sister, the confusion of working for the very thing he had spent his life fighting, the pain of being left by Angel while he did his Darla/Drusilla thing, the gaps where _something_ was missing, something big that left a gap that nothing could fill. And then Wolfram and Hart, losing his way, losing his path until the big cat offered him this – a devil's bargain that he took because he wanted to be part of it – part of Angel's destiny, part of the Fang Gang. Not his gang but all he had left.

Gasping for breath around his tears, he couldn't stop himself, driving in deep, hard, fast – needing someone to **see** and **feel** his pain, his guilt, his hurt. And it hurt, it hurt so bad, and he was coming and it hurt even more – like everything was being pulled out of him as he pushed himself in deep and held himself there, pulsing and throbbing within Spike's tight grip. And coming to himself enough to yank off the cock-ring so Spike could come too. And suddenly he was no longer alone, Spike was there – holding him, pushing back, taking his deep forceful kisses with gusto, rubbing against him and gasping and moaning it was good good good to feel all of it flow out of him, just letting it out, letting it go until he slumped down on Spike, a drained exhausted mess.

He came to wrapped in Spike's arms, long gentle fingers stroking his head, tears drying on his face. He looked down and could see bruises forming on Spike's hips and arms, scratch marks that he didn't remember making. Looking up into Spike's face he could see his fingerprints on either side of Spike's jaw, a clear outline of where his hands had held Spike's face in place for his forceful kiss. Moving up, he placed a gentle kiss on each bruise, shamefaced as he saw the marks of his brutality.

Spike moaned gently, still stroking Gunn's head, neck and back, still smiling that soft smile as he accepted the soothing kisses.

“I don't know what to say.”

“Don't have to say anything”.

“But I hurt you – I – I've _never_ treated anyone like that. I don't even know where it came from”. Dazed, he returned his head to Spike's chest, arched his neck to encourage the petting to continue.

“Just needed to get it out Charlie-boy, it's ok”

“I hurt you”.

“No – you **saw** me.” Their gazes met and he realised that Spike was right. He _knew_ Spike now in a way he never had before – could see the pain and hurt of rejection, of not belonging, of being on the edge. And he knew that Spike saw the same thing in him, that he understood.

Pulling himself up the bed, he moved out of Spike's embrace onto his back, then wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pulled him in close. Spike shifted until his head was resting on Gunn's chest, ear pressed to the thump da-thump da-thump of Charle's heart. A restful, peaceful silence – the most peace he had experienced since the sarcophagus arrived in L.A., and he sighed in appreciation.

“D'you think – maybe – we could - “

“Yeah Charlie-boy, we could”. Nodding, satisfied, Gunn let his eyes drift closed and he flowed into sleep, holding Spike close so he didn't get away.

* * *

Blanketing his body with own, Gunn pressed against Spike from behind, pressing him into the coolness of the concrete wall.

“Yeah, I want this”.

“I see you Blondie, I always see you”. With a sigh, Spike's head dropped forward and he put himself into Gunn's strong hands.

* * *


End file.
